


resign yourself to a sticky situation

by princealliance (anaksemuabangsa)



Category: NCT (Band), SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: EXO Ensemble - Freeform, M/M, Spider-Man!Mark, The Avengers Ensemble - Freeform, characters and tags to be added, marvel AU, spider-man au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22182580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaksemuabangsa/pseuds/princealliance
Summary: Okay, so maybe wearing spandex wasn't the best decision of his life. But in Mark's defence, he just wanted to save lives.Being saved in return by the totally hot nurse is just an added bonus.
Relationships: Kim Jongin | Kai/Mark Lee (NCT)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 153





	1. webbed surveillance

**Author's Note:**

> First of all thank you to my friends who keep encouraging me and beta-ing my fics. Alia, Zakiya, Vee, thank you! Enjoy people!!!
> 
> Disclaimer: some of the places in this fic are fake.

**+++**

Here's the thing, Mark knows objectively that spandex isn't the best thing to go around in when you're just a newly minted vigilante with powers that mainly involves jumping around, sticking to things, and shooting webs out of your wrists.

He _knows_ that maybe he should've taken the microfiber carbon polymer suit that Mr. Byun had sent pointedly to his apartment. But Mr. Byun--Baekhyun--doesn't know how it feels like to be an ole web-slinging human being, what with his red and gold metal flying suit and all that. It's _heavy._ No matter how much he says that _it's lighter this time, Mark._

Mark swears-- _swears--_ that he's working on an even lighter fabric than the polymer that Mr. Byun-- _Baekhyun_ had proposed to him. But it's in the works, okay, and he can't just stop fighting crime while waiting for it, can he? That's why spandex is his only choice tonight. That's how the Green Goblin had managed to shoot a concentrated beam thing-y through his side. Sliced deep and straight through the weak fabric and cuts his very squishy, very unprotected skin and the layers underneath.

It stings. Hurts when he swings. Red bleeds all over his suit. Mark snorts, at least it won't stain _that_ bad.

Mark takes a left and shoots towards a nearby building. Apparently blood loss makes your gauging ability shit, because he ends up stumbling on the building _next_ to it. An old apartment that has seen better days, Mark is sure. Mark lands on his butt. Goblin cackles behind him.

This night could not get any worse.

Mark scoots backwards, stands up with minimal wobbling and maximum grumbling.

"This is your end, Spider-Man," the Goblin growls, hovering just over the edge of the building, over the meter tall wall.

Mark groans, shoots webs at his gaping wound. Hisses at the feeling. "Yeah, yeah, I keep telling myself that too. But God just keeps saving my ass. It's like I'm in a bad video game or something." He quips, facing the Goblin and taking a stance. He discreetly eyes the water tank on the far left, towering over the both of them on a creaky metal contraption.

There's a tense second where neither the Goblin or Mark moves. Mark likes to think that it's because the Goblin doesn't _really_ want to kill him. Courtesy of being archenemies and all that. But Mark's Spidey sense tingles before the Goblin could reach into his belt, and the next thing he knows, he's sidestepping to his left. An exploding knife lands where he stood before. Mark has no time to appreciate the smooth dodge however, too busy throwing his arms to the left as he shoots his web onto the water tank, where it sticks with a loud _thwap!_ and _pulls_. At the same time, a horrible twinge snakes up his side. Mark gasps as he falls down.

The metal tower groans, and collapses with a loud boom onto his enemy. The dust settles. The Goblin stills underneath it.

For a dizzying while, there's no sound but the ringing of his ears. When it subsides, he tries to get his arms underneath him but his body sticks to the ground like lead. Mark pants underneath his mask, feels for his wound. Glances down and stifles another groan. The blood had seeped through the webbing, steadily soaking through the fabric.

"Shit," he moans, crawls to the edge of the building, and grabs the wall for support, staining the already faded yellow with red, only to lose strength of his arms and slide back down to the floor.

Mark flips onto his back, the cut on his side throbbing with every heavy breath he takes. "This night could not get any worse," he mumbles.

He blinks wearily, tries to keep awake, but to no avail, he can't stop his eyelids from slipping shut. The last thing he hears and sees before his vision fades out is the bang of the rooftop door, and the vague outline of a man with silver hair.

-

Mark comes to with a gasp. He bolts upright into darkness, and would've jumped up to the ceiling if there hadn't been hands on his shoulders, pushing him down.

"Calm down." A deep voice says soothingly. "It's 3:14 in the morning. You're in an apartment in Hongik-dong and you're safe. It's okay."

Mark's eyes scrambles to catch up with his ears, heart thudding. He studies the man looming over him in the dark with what minimal lighting available. Thank God for superpowers. He takes in the almond-shaped eyes. The elegant slope of his nose, his plush lips. The messy silver hair.

Holy shit, he's hot.

Mark curses that _that's_ the first thing he notices.

"You--" Mark gulps around lungfuls of air. "Who are you?" he croaks. Smart move, Mark.

"My name is Kim Jongin, I'm a certified nurse," the man answers calmly. He's staring at Mark, eerily straight into his eyes. Despite the mask on his face, (which had stayed on, yay!) a small mercy which Mark feels grateful for. "I found you on the rooftop unconscious. You were bleeding really bad."

Mark's mind reels to the events earlier. He jerks, starts to pull himself away from Jongin's grip. "The rooftop! The Goblin he--"

"I called the police," Jongin assures him, hands pushing him down again. "It's okay, it's taken care of."

"Oh," Mark replies smartly (again, Mark, _really_ ). "Thank you." His body sags automatically under Jongin's warm touch. Jongin smiles at him, and lets go of Mark's shoulder to stand up. Mark feels sorry for the loss. He follows Jongin's form all the way to the other side of the room. Remarks idly how Jongin is tall, probably taller than Mark. Mark kind of wishes he'd been awake to remember being carried by Jongin.

Jongin flicks something on the wall, effectively pulling him out of his thoughts, and the sudden assault of light makes Mark squint.

Mark vaguely registers the couch underneath him, takes in the homey living room he's situated in, the potted plant by the door, and swings his foot to the side. The room spins with him as he does, Mark makes the wise decision to stay put.

Jongin sits on the wooden coffee table in front of the couch, right in front of Mark. He ducks down, makes himself look small and non-threatening despite the broadness of his shoulders, and his apparent size over Mark. "How are you feeling? Do you need anything?"

Mark closes his eyes for a while, does a mental count of all his limbs. His hearing, he opens his eyes and shifts around to look down at his wound, it's receded into a dull ache despite the lack of painkiller.

Yay superhealing, Mark thinks weakly.

He pokes the bandage over it. It's neat. Like his brother was the one who did it for him. He shakes his head. "I'm fine," he answers, looks up at Jongin again. "Thank you."

Jongin waves him off. "It's fine," he says, "sorry about your costume though," Jongin smiles sheepishly, a hand going to brush the back of his neck. Mark doesn't miss the way the oversized shirt he's wearing slides down to his shoulder and exposes some _very_ toned triceps. "I had to cut it, it was getting in the way."

Mark notices for the first time the neat rectangle cut from the fabric around his wound. The darker patch around it. He'd bled a lot, then. How did Jongin manage not to stain the couch, he wonders.

Mark makes an interested sound. "Don't worry about it, it was probably ruined anyways," he waves it off. "Thank you for saving my life."

"Thank you for saving the city," Jongin smiles at him again, and with him this close Mark definitely notices how angelic it looks, despite the sleep-mussed hair and the slight bruises underneath his eyes.

Mark raises an eyebrow, and realizes that Jongin can't see him doing that. "Just doing what I can."

Jongin chuckles, shrugs. "It's still admirable."

"I think saving lives is more admirable, no?"

"Stop trying to one up me and accept my compliment," Jongin's smile widens.

"Is that what we're doing, now? I was just stating facts."

"Oh, were you?"

Mark laughs and doesn't answer.

"You're awfully calm for a person who just dragged a half-dying stranger into his home," he observes instead.

"Should I not be?"

Mark shrugs. "Who knows, I might try to steal your stuff."

"Would you?" Jongin asks, but there's no malice or wariness in his voice. Just quiet amusement.

Mark shakes his head quickly, horrified. "Of course not, the police might hate me, but I'm not a dick."

Jongin hums, stretches his long, long legs to the spot next to Mark and leans back on his hands. "I work in a pediatric ward," he explains, "the kids love you there. People who are liked by kids... I trust them."

Mark finds himself relaxing, too, melting onto the cushiness of the couch. "I don't think that's a good basis of judgment."

Jongin just laughs. It's a pleasant sound, Mark notes. Something you'd want to bottle up and sell. "You'd be surprised how many boyfriends I've vetted through this method."

Mark stops at that. Were they flirting? They were flirting, weren't they? A voice in the back of his mind that sounds vaguely like Donghyuck reminds him how bad of an idea this was, to get involved with a civilian.

"Well," Mark replies, "if it works for you. I guess." He looks at the clock on the wall. 4:05. Johnny should be home in a couple of hours. He sighs. The couch is so comfy and Jongin's company is _so_ nice, and his head is throbbing. He wants nothing more than to stay there and sleep. Mark has a feeling Jongin is the type of person who won't mind.

"I should really get going, city to safe and all that," he says instead. Mark pushes himself up and grunts with the effort of getting onto his feet. Jongin scrambles to stand up, too, hand ready at Mark's elbow to catch him if he falls. Mark is willing to bet his left pinkie that it's instinct at this point, but it's still endearing nonetheless.

Jongin lets him pass to the window, watching Mark from a good meter away. He's halfway through opening it when Jongin levels him with a _look_. "Aren't you going to use the door?"

Mark returns the look, and then reminds himself, again, that Jongin can't see his face through the mask. "Nah, it's more convenient this way." He has both legs over the sill before he hesitates. "Thank you for saving me. I don't know how to make it up to you."

Jongin walks forward and hums, crossing his arms, confirming to Mark that yes, his arms are _very_ nicely muscled. His humming is deep and melodious. Mark likes it. "Swing by my workplace sometimes."

Mark makes a noise of surprise, and is even more surprised when Jongin blushes.

"Not like _that_ ," he half-whines, not-quite stomping a foot. It's so cute. _So_ cute. Cuter than a litter of puppies. "I told you, I work in a pediatric ward. We have long-term patients. They'd love to meet you." Jongin finishes softly with a reluctant smile.

Mark never stood a chance.

"Oh sure," Mark says. "Name?"

"Kang Jongdeok Memorial," Jongin answers, grinning brightly (Christ, he's so handsome). "I'm there Monday through Friday. 8 to 6."

If it weren't for the blood loss messing with his brain, Mark would probably notice the familiarity of the name. But for now he just nods. "Alright. I'll leave you a note if I'm gonna swing by." He flashes Jongin one last smile, giving him a mock-salute. "I'll see you around, Kim Jongin." With that, Mark shoots his web--almost empty--to the building next to them (a bank? probably, the neon sign is _ugly_ ugly though), and swings away.

He looks back to catch Jongin leaning out of the window, a hand cupped over his mouth, shouting a "see you, Spider-Man!"

Mark laughs delightedly, and thinks that this wasn't such a bad night after all.

-

The phone calls are expected (which is why Mark had kept his phone off all day long), the grey Audi R8 pulling over the side of his campus building, however, is not. Mark sighs as he steps out into the campus parking lot, Donghyuck crashing into his back. Donghyuck is about to curse him a storm when he notices what Mark saw, too, and his expression shifts into one of pity. He claps Mark on the back.

"Looks like someone's in trouble," Donghyuck comments. "What did you do to get the big guy to come down himself?"

"Almost died," Mark answers, readjusts the strap of his bag on one shoulder, careful not to put any strain on his wounded side.

Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. "Again? Did you use the suit he sent you, at least?"

"Nope," Mark says, popping the p.

"That's dumb," Donghyuck frowns. "Mark Lee, did you go out in spandex again?"

"Yep."

Donghyuck smacks the back of his head. "Dude! That's so fucking dumb! Didn't I tell you _not_ to do that?"

"I know," Mark whines, rubbing at his head, "but it's so heavy and I couldn't just _not_ patrol."

Donghyuck rolls his eyes and smacks his head again. Mark squeaks. "You know what? I support him coming here, come on, let's go say hi."

Despite Mark's protests, Donghyuck drags him until he's crouched over the Audi's tinted window. Donghyuck knocks on it once, twice, before it rolls down. Revealing a very cheery Byun Baekhyun, a pair of Dior sunglasses perched on his nose, and a wide smile on his mouth. His bubblegum-pink hair matches the white t-shirt and raspberry-pinstriped suit he has on. On anybody else it'd look ridiculous. But on billionaire Byun Baekhyun, CEO and owner of SM Industries, it looks like the pinnacle of fashion.

"Baekhyun-nim," Donghyuck greets, "still looking hot I see."

"Jailbait," Baekhyun greets back. "Still a brat, I see."

"Not the one in trouble this time, Baekhyun-nim. Heard our friend here," Donghyuck nudges Mark forward. "Forgot to put on his suit last night."

"I heard so, too," Baekhyun muses. "Maybe your forgetful friend would like a lift home?"

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here." Mark groans. "Also no thank you, hyung. I'll catch the bus."

"It's not a request," Baekhyun smiles at him sharply. "Get in, Mark Lee," he orders.

Donghyuck snickers beside him. Whispers a good luck before Mark reluctantly circles the car to get to the door. He slides in and closes it harder than he meant to. He cringes, masks it by shoving his bag down by his feet.

"Take care of my friend, please, Baekhyun-nim. He's in ah, somewhat sticky mood today, it seems."

Baekhyun smirks. "Will do."

Mark looks back as they drive off, watches Donghyuck waving at them from the parking lot. Baekhyun doesn't say anything, but he doesn't look mad, there's no frown on his face, no downward turn of his lips, but the silence that stretches afterwards is still stifling.

Mark decides to just get on with it.

"Am I in trouble?" Mark asks warily, eyes focused on the buildings blurring past them, hands folded in his lap, worrying the hem of his sweatshirt.

"Depends," Baekhyun's answer is clipped.

"On?"

"What your definition of trouble is."

Mark sighs. "I'm sorry."

Baekhyun pulls up on a curb suddenly, turning off the car engine. It still catches Mark off guard, how fast he could do that.

"See, I don't think you get it," Baekhyun snaps, turning over to him, an elbow resting on the steering wheel. He's frowning, now. The line of his mouth hard, so unlike the playful smirk he had for Donghyuck.

Baekhyun rips his glasses off, waves it around as he speaks. "When you say you're sorry, I expect you to know what you did wrong, but you never do."

Mark throws his gaze down to his hands. He hates feeling like this, like he's a kid and Baekhyun caught him with a hand inside the forbidden cookie jar. "I'm sorry I didn't put on your suit."

"That's not why I'm mad and you know that," Baekhyun jabs. "You're not concerned enough for your own safety."

"I am," Mark protests weakly, "I told you I was working on another mesh."

"And you decided to go out in basically _nothing_ anyways," Baekhyun glowers at him.

Mark winces but doesn't deny Baekhyun's words.

"You're benched," Baekhyun states. "No patrolling and no team calls for two weeks."

Mark's blood runs cold. "You can't just decide that for me," he snaps. "I'm not your soldier _or_ your kid," he goes on, voice rising with every word. Regret bubbles up inside his chest when hurt flashes over Baekhyun's face.

"Well you _are_ _a_ kid, _especially_ if you're going to keep acting like one!" Baekhyun shouts at him, leaning forward, a fierce scowl on his face. Mark blinks at him, doesn't realize he'd shrunk back on his seat until Baekhyun looks guiltily at him and pulls himself back to his seat. He deflates suddenly, lets the sunglasses fall on his lap and moves his hands back to the steering wheel, gripping tightly. Baekhyun rests his forehead on it and closes his eyes. "You're just twenty, Mark, that's young. You're barely an adult," he says quietly. "This is the third time you've done this, and every time, you get hurt. I was the one who pulled you into this whole superhero mess in the first place. You're on _my_ team, and if you're not going to play by _my_ rules, then you don't get to play at all. Understood?"

Mark's eyes sting. He nods.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes, Baekhyun-hyung," he whispers.

Baekhyun clears his throat. "Good, now we're going to the tower and we're gonna get you checked out by Minseok." He shifts the gear between them with more force than necessary, and the car continues smoothly down the road.

Mark wants to say that he's fine, that he's gotten medical attention. But Baekhyun's still white-knuckling the wheel, mouth pressed together in a stern line, his eyes unreadable again behind the shades. Mark keeps quiet, let the atmosphere hang tense and heavy, and stares out the window the rest of the way.

-

The Avengers Tower, formerly known as the SM Tower, stands tall and proud on the very heart of Gangnam. Jaemin once said it's the ugliest thing he'd ever laid eyes on. Mark thinks it's amazing, all chrome and steel and glass. Very state of the art, green energy powered, beautiful. Strong. It's been his second home for a while now. Since Baekhyun dragged him along a little over a year ago into some European airport which name he still can't pronounce.

Minseok smiles at him through the glass before he even gets in. Once he does, Minseok hugs Mark so tight Mark has to suppress a wince.

"Ah," Minseok remarks, prodding at the wound that Jongin took care of last night. "There it is."

Baekhyun sighs from the door, arms crossed. "Take care of him won't you, hyung?"

Minseok nods at Baekhyun's words. "Will do."

Baekhyun hesitates, glancing at Mark and Minseok, guilt still written all over his face, before turning around and leaving. Minseok zeroes in on him as soon as Baekhyun's out the door, tilts his head before he walks so Mark could follow Minseok to the medical room located further inside Minseok's lab.

There's a station set for Mark already, a surgical set laid out on a table with saline and iodine. Minseok makes him sit on the bed and strip out of his sweatshirt.

Minseok surveys him from head to toe as he puts on his gloves, and makes a noise of interest when he stumbles on the wound on Mark's side, lifting up Mark's arm.

"Whoa," he exclaims in awe, "did you do this? It's very neat," Minseok asks, lightly pressing around the stitches spanning the entire horizontal longitude of his right side.

"No," Mark winces at the slight pain. "A nurse did this for me."

Minseok pauses. "Johnny?"

"Um," Mark answers smartly. "No?"

"Then who?" Minseok questions, getting to work. He bends his head a little to better see the site of injury, small hands deftly dabbing the stitches with saline-soaked gauze.

"A nurse kind of maybe saved me?"

"A nurse saved you?"

Mark nods. "A nurse saved me," he repeats, his arm is sort of cramping from being held up for so long, so he settles for crossing it over his chest, hooking the fingers on his other shoulder.

Mark recalls his meeting with Jongin to Minseok, who only responds in hums and oohs and aahs, all the while going through the process of cutting the stitches out. The wound itself has healed overnight, courtesy of super healing and all that.

(Yay superhealing! Mark thinks again, this time on a brighter note.)

"He seems nice, Mark," Minseok comments, drying the wound with a pad and putting a light bandage over it. "Be careful, though."

"Careful?"

Minseok smiles knowingly at him, taking off his gloves and dumping it into a trashcan beneath the examination table, he ruffles Mark's hair, eyes crinkling up. "You seem smitten already."

Mark whines and bats his hand away. He shrugs on his sweatshirt and hops back on the examination table, legs swinging as he waits for Minseok to finish putting his tools away.

"Yeah, well, you're wrong," Mark defends. "And Baekhyun-hyung benched me so I don't think I'll be seeing more of--" Mark gestures with his hand, "the nice nurse."

Minseok hums. "Want to tell me what happened with _that_ one?" 

"Oh, you know," Mark sighs. "Same old, same old."

Minseok chuckles, settling beside him on the bench. "To be honest, you do kind of deserve it," he admits, bumps his shoulder with Mark's. "But knowing Baekhyun, he probably was kind of a jerk about it. Wasn't he?"

"He's," Mark scrunches his nose. "He thinks I'm reckless. He was pissed."

"Was he mean about it?"

"Not really," Mark answers, " _I_ was kind of mean about it."

"Talk to him."

"I hate it when you make sense."

"That's a lie," Minseok deadpans, "I'm your favorite Avenger."

"I also hate it when you're right."

Minseok laughs. "Come on, kid I'll show you what I'm working on." He hops off the table and pulls Mark down by his neck, drags him back into his labs.

-

The elevator ride down from Minseok's quarters to Baekhyun's workshop is a familiar one. It should be a comforting one. Somehow it's not, right now. Mark's palms are sweaty, he keeps wiping them on his jeans.

"JARVIS?" Mark asks, "is Baekhyun-hyung mad?"

"It appears Sir is deep in thought, Mark. He has not moved from his spot for half an hour," JARVIS' pleasant voice filters in from the speaker.

"Is he mad at me?"

"He has not stated so, young Sir."

"Is Taeyeon-noona there?"

"She just left the perimeters, young Sir."

Mark considers that. "I see."

"If I may say something, young Sir. Sir mentioned the words 'reckless' and 'just like me' in no particular order whilst conversing with Taeyeon-ssi just now. They also discussed the incident between Spider-Man and the Green Goblin which occurred last night. Sir did not mention the words 'angry' or 'pissed off'. But he did however, mention the word 'worried'."

Mark smiles at JARVIS' words. Trust Baekhyun's own AI to rat him out. "Alright, thanks, J. You're the best."

"Glad to be of service, Mark."

The elevator door swish open with a pneumatic whoosh. Mark steps out to a familiar, pristine hallway, glass lining the side of it. Inside, Baekhyun's various sports car and motorcycles line up in a neat row. The door to Baekhyun's workshop opens for Mark.

Not in trouble, then.

A pop song that Mark doesn't recognize is blaring from the speakers. Baekhyun himself is perched on the edge of a long table, clad only in a wifebeater and a pair of sweats, illuminated by the holograms spread out in front of him. Cradled on his arm is the Iron Man helmet. Baekhyun really does seem deep in thought, brows drawn together, fingers tapping mindlessly to the beat of the song.

Mark approaches with caution. JARVIS, bless his heart, lowers the volume once Baekhyun is within reaching distance.

"Hey, J," Baekhyun yells, startling out of his thought, "what the hell."

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Baekhyun whips around and narrows his eyes at Mark, setting down the helmet on the table. "Ah, my prodigal non-son is here," he drawls. "Have you come to grovel for my forgiveness?"

Mark gives him a lopsided smile. "Not necessarily."

"I should have JARVIS lock you out of here."

"You can't do that," Mark says, stepping around to stand across from Baekhyun, the table acting as a physical barrier between them. "I'm his favorite."

"As true as that may be, we don't hang out with people who disregard their own safety here."

Mark bites back a snarky retort that he has ready at the tip of his tongue. Baekhyun is one to talk, he's not _exactly_ the poster child of self-care. But Mark holds up both of his hands. "I know," he says in what he hopes is a pleading tone. "I'm here to apologize and acknowledge my sins, not cause more fights."

Baekhyun stares at him until Mark starts to squirm, before he nods, waves an unimpressed hand. "You may proceed."

"I..." Mark pauses, ponders for a while, searching for the right words. "I knew that using the spandex suit wasn't the safest thing to do," he starts. "I didn't think I was going to meet Green Goblin on my patrol. I should've been more considerate of my own safety, I should have been more careful. I was just antsy. Still, that's not a good enough reason to disregard the risks of me going patrolling in a spandex suit. I shouldn't have gone out without more safety measurements. I'm sorry," he realizes he's rambling. Mark stops. "Im sorry," he says again. "I'm--I'm sorry for worrying you," Mark adds hastily.

Baekhyun is silent, he stares down at his helmet and sighs.

"You didn't even tell anybody you were going to go swinging."

"Yes, well--"

"Not even _Donghyuck_."

"Yes, you see--"

Baekhyun rubs his hands over his face and exhales, pressing the heels of his hands onto his eyes. "Not to mention the damage to the apartment building that you barreled into."

Mark grimaces. "Okay, first of all. The Green Goblin barreled into it, technically, I just helped a little."

Baekhyun looks up at the ceiling and sighs again. Lots of sighs today. 

"That was a terrible apology, as apologies go."

"I can rephrase it if you want," Mark hurries, "do you--do you want me to say it again?"

Baekhyun snorts. He looks tired, hair flopping messily around his face. Mark feels guilty all over again.

"No. It's fine, I get what you mean. C'mere you little rascal." Baekhyun opens his arms, and Mark happily jumps into it.

Baekhyun is shorter than him, but Mark bends down so he can bury his face into Baekhyun's shoulder. He tightens his hold around Mark and sways him from side to side. "You're still benched though."

"I know," Mark says, "can I still come over to the tower? I'll finish the mesh faster here."

"Of course you can, Mark," Baekhyun says softly. "Just no crimefighting for a while."

"Yes, hyung," Mark mumbles into his shoulder.

"And promise me to be safer next time. Text Donghyuck when you're going out, or Heechul, at least."

"I promise."

"I know you're not a child anymore, Mark. But I just--" _worry about you_ , Baekhyun doesn't say.

"I know, hyung." Mark's arms tighten around Baekhyun's waist. "I know."

-

Heechul used to be Baekhyun's personal bodyguard. Now that Baekhyun has the Sparkly Red and Gold Metal Suit of Doom ( _how many times do I have to tell you to stop calling it that,_ Baekhyun says exasperatedly) to guard himself, he acts more like a chauffeur, if anything. Sort of like the Joe to Baekhyun's Queen of Genovia. He's the one who drops Mark off in front of his dingy apartment building.

"Hey kid." Heechul leans his head over the window. Leers at him. "Don't get into more trouble."

Mark grins at him. "Can't promise that," he replies. "Bye Heenim! Thanks for the ride," he yells.

-

It's 9PM by the time Mark is climbing the stairs up to his apartment, three at a time, bag rattling noisily behind him. Johnny had promised to come home early with Chinese food. It's been a while since the two of them had spent any quality time together. With Johnny's irregular shifts and Mark's late night (or early morning, take your pick) patrols, their free time never lines up. After the emotional storm that is Byun Baekhyun and the general lack of sleep, Mark is _so_ ready to just chill with his big bro and marathon Community. Maybe sneak in some brotherly cuddles on the way, it's long way overdue. 

Mark jangles his keys excitedly in one hand, hums a tune under his breath as he turns the knob.

"Hyung, I'm ho--"

Words die in his throat as he opens the door, breath stolen from his lungs at the sight in front of him.

Johnny perks up from the couch where he's sitting beside a familiar silver-haired figure.

"Speak of the devil." Johnny grins. He gets up, walks over to the door where Mark is still frozen.

The other man stares at him expectantly and Mark realizes he's being rude. He's being really rude right now. He forces himself to move, the swing of his arm automatic as he closes the door and falls into Johnny's one armed hug. Dazed, eyes never leaving the (technically still) stranger wearing similar scrubs to his brother. 

Mark flashes back to their first meeting. _Kang Jongdeok Memorial_ he had said.

Where Johnny works.

Fuck.

"Jonginnie," Johnny looks back at the stranger on their couch. "This is my baby bro, Mark," Johnny introduces him, squeezing Mark's shoulder. Mark nods absently. His eyes dart to the overnight bag at the stranger's feet.

 _Not to mention the damage you did to the building_ Baekhyun had said.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck._

"Mark, this is my friend, Jongin," Johnny continues, it's as if Johnny could sense Mark's dread, he pauses, studying Mark's face, before saying. "He'll be staying with us for a while."

Jongin stands up, all long legs and toned arms across his broad, broad chest. "Hello. I'm Kim Jongin." He greets, bowing. The same pleasantly deep voice. The same angelic smile. The same almond-shaped eyes locking with his.

"It's nice to meet you."

+++


	2. a curious case of (forced) domesticity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So you're telling me that the hot nurse lives here now?"
> 
> "First of all, his name is Jongin," Mark corrects him. "Second of all, for a while, yeah." Mark lolls his head to the side, hair fussed up by the static created between the strands and the fabric of the couch. He sighs miserably. "Two weeks at least."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhh hi? I know I promised updates every two weeks, and then life hits me like a freight train and i.. got anxiety... and clinical rotations and boy i Did Not Do Anything. I hope you enjoy this chapter though! Very Sorry For The Sitcommy Conversation it is Just Me.

+++

"So you're telling me that the hot nurse lives here now?"

"First of all, his name is Jongin," Mark corrects him. "Second of all, for a while, yeah." Mark lolls his head to the side, hair fussed up by the static created between the strands and the fabric of the couch. He sighs miserably. "Two weeks at least."

"Holy shit," Donghyuck whispers. "Holy shit, Mark," he says again, repeatedly punching Mark's leg. Mark tries to bat his hand away, but he can't reach it. He's too lazy to get up to where Donghyuck is lying on the other side of the couch, their legs tangled together. He wiggles instead, kicks around until Donghyuck stops. Mark thinks he hits the back of Donghyuck's knee.

"Your life is a fucking soap opera." Donghyuck laughs. Obnoxiously.

"Quit laughing at me," Mark whines, pinching whatever part of Donghyuck he can get his hands on in retaliation. Donghyuck hisses and sits up, only to throw himself on top of Mark. A jab on Donghyuck's side later and they're scuffling on the couch. Donghyuck yelps as Mark pushes him off to the floor, and grabs Mark by the collar of his shirt, effectively pulling him down too.

The next thing he knows, his face is shoved onto the carpet beneath him, and he’s coughing around a mouthful of fabric. Arms pinned behind his back by Donghyuck's tiny but powerful hands.

"Truce! Truce!" Mark yells.

Donghyuck snorts but lets him up, flops aside to lie on his back instead.

"I hate you," Mark grunts, but turns to mimic his position. They lay side by side on the carpeted floor, catching their breaths and staring at the half-peeled ceiling above them.

The TV continues to play a quiz show that Mark doesn't know the title of. The announcer announcing (heh) that the contestants only had one minute to win it or lose the main million dollar prize. Mark snorts.

Donghyuck elbows him in the ribs.

Mark groans in pain, curling in slightly. "Donghyuck, how many times do I have to remind you that I'm still squishy and injurable. Especially for the likes of you. Thank you."

Mark hears rather than sees Donghyuck's eyeroll. "What are _you_ laughing at?" Donghyuck asks him.

"Nothing," Mark answers, sighing around the words, closing his eyes. "Absolutely, purely, nothing."

It's only day three of his official benching, but Mark already feels a little stir crazy from not doing anything. On one hand, he has had ample time to catch up with his coursework (not that he was slacking before. Mark's riding on a scholarship, he can't slip. But it feels good to be able to make his professor's jaw drop in class once in a while), and he's been spending most of his time at the tower anyways, trying to work the kinks in his mesh formula. Baekhyun's workshop is wonder of wonders, it helps that JARVIS is there, too. Doing complicated calculations that his beat-up Toshiba can only dream of achieving.

But on the other hand, it means coming home to Jongin sleeping soundly on their sofa, blanket pulled up to his chin. It means Jongin's sleepy smile over a mug of coffee over their creaky dining table, still angelic so early in the morning. Mark would honestly feel worse about messing up Jongin's apartment's water system and try to get Baekhyun's hand on it. If it didn't result in him seeing Jongin shuffle around with his matching teddy bear pajamas sleepily at nights. Still cuter than a litter of puppies.

So Mark might be developing a little bit of a crush.

The jingling of keys is what alerts Mark to Johnny's presence, chatter filtering in through the wooden door. Jongin is there, too, baritone laugh clearer to Mark than Johnny's.

Mark sighs and sits up just as Johnny opens the door, folding his feet underneath him. Their front door opens directly to the living room, so Johnny catches a glimpse of Mark as soon as he steps through the door.

Johnny raises an eyebrow at him and Donghyuck. They must look a sight; Mark with his hair sticking out everywhere and Donghyuck humming to a tune under his breath, hands outstretched to the ceiling. Johnny's caught them in various weird positions before. He should be used to it by now.

"Hey, Mark," he steps aside to let Jongin through before closing the door and locking it. "Donghyuck," he acknowledges, to which Donghyuck replies with a cheerful "Yo!"

"Will you be staying for dinner? Jongin is making chicken," Johnny asks, taking off his shoes and putting on house slippers.

Donghyuck sits up too and sags against Mark, watches idly as Johnny disappears into his bedroom. He seems to finally notice Jongin fidgeting in the corner, who's setting his bag down against the far table next to the TV. Donghyuck gets up in a rush, bowing and introducing himself to Jongin.

"Call me hyung, please. Any friend of Mark's is a friend of mine," Jongin smiles at Donghyuck, whose mouth is open so wide Mark is sure he can fit an entire fist in it (he can, they’ve tried it once), before disappearing into the kitchen.

Donghyuck turns to look at Mark, flailing his arms. Mouthing _dude,_ _he's so hot_ with wide eyes. Mark just shrugs.

Jongin chooses that exact moment to poke his head out of the kitchen, tilting his head, still smiling. "Mark, could you come help me for a sec?"

Mark's breath stutters. That smile is _deadly._ Class S bomb. SHIELD could weaponize that. "O-okay, hyung."

Smooth, Mark Lee. Real smooth.

Donghyuck smirks at him knowingly, and Mark punches his shoulder on his way to the kitchen.

He finds Jongin half stuck in the fridge when he makes it there, pulling out ingredients for whatever he's cooking. Mark shuffles in to lean back the counter, next to the sink. The furthest acceptable distance he could get between him and Jongin in their tiny kitchen.

"I didn't know you could cook, hyung," he comments, a nervous attempt at starting a conversation. Mark folds his arms, and decides he looks too douchey doing that, so drops them again. They end up hanging awkwardly at his sides, with Mark balling and unballing his fists.

"Do I not seem like the type to cook?" Jongin chuckles, straightening up and dumping the ingredients in the sink. His heartbeat quickens a little when Jongin's hand brushes past his arm to get a knife. Their kitchen is cramped, barely fits three people on a good day, so Mark has the pleasure of standing side by side with Jongin. Watches from next to him as he goes through the motions of preparing and rinsing vegetables under running water.

"No that's not what I meant. I mean, I, um," Mark stutters, pitch rising up with his words, feels his face heating up. _Real_ smooth Mark Lee. Real smooth.

Jongin laughs. "I'm kidding, Mark. Scoot," Jongin bumps his hips against Mark, reaching for something on the spice rack behind him. Mark jumps to the side like he’s burned. "Grab a knife and make yourself useful, won't you?"

Mark pulls a knife from the corner of the table and holds it awkwardly in the air. "Um," he says, "what do you want me to do?"

"Square these please." Jongin points to the peppers and the carrots.

Mark grabs a cutting board and the peppers, and they set into silence as they work together, Jongin preparing the chicken and Mark the vegetables. Side by side, shoulders almost touching.

He doesn’t know whether it’s just his Spidey senses. But Jongin seems to emanate heat. And he smells _so_ good. Almost suffocating in the small room. Mark gets his job done by the skin of his teeth.

"Johnny told me you were studying engineering," Jongin pipes up suddenly, breaking the silence.

Mark gets so surprised that Jongin would talk to him he almost cut his hand. Thank God for reflexes. "Um. Yeah. Chemical engineering, actually."

Jongin wrinkles his nose, it's not fair. It should be illegal for Jongin to wrinkle his nose. "That sounds so smart. I never did like physics."

"Um," Mark flushes. "Not really. I think medical sciences is harder?"

"No no, it's mostly just protocols and processes," Jongin answers. "What's your minor?"

"Biology."

Jongin makes a noise beside him. Mark glances at him.

A mistake, really. Because Jongin is staring at Mark like he's in awe. Eyes wide and mouth just this little bit parted. "No way," he whispers, "you're so smart."

Mark's flush deepens.

"Not really," Mark mutters. If he was smart he wouldn't be benched right now, and he'd be more coherent. Wouldn't he?

"Hey," Johnny pops up by the kitchen entrance, hair wet. He reaches up to touch the doorframe. Showing off, Mark is sure. It's not fair that he's freakishly tall and Mark is not. "Need any help?"

"We're good, thank you," Jongin answers quickly for them, smiling. Mark just nods.

Johnny hums, eyeing Mark knowingly. His brother raises his eyebrows at him, and waggles them. "You okay there Mark? Everything good?"

"I'm fine," Mark answers, strangled.

Mark knows Johnny is holding back a laugh, if his grin is saying anything. Because he knows his brother best. But Johnny just shrugs, gives him one last shit-eating grin, and turns around. "If you say so."

-

Dinner passes somewhat peacefully, no thanks to Mark's conversational skill. He leaves the talking to Donghyuck and Johnny. Wary about putting his foot in his own mouth around Jongin.

To no avail, because Jongin makes an effort to talk to him anyways, like the absolute _angel_ that he is. Makes sure Mark is included in all conversations. Mark tries to keep his answers as short as possible without offending the man. But it’s _so_ hard. Especially since Jongin just keeps _trying_ to _talk_ to him.

Mark is saved, as always, by Donghyuck. Who sees Mark's panicked look and swoops in to distract.

"So how did you and Johnny-hyung meet? I've never seen you around before," Donghyuck asks.

"Well, I--" Jongin stammers, pausing to chew his food.

Jongin blinks repeatedly, still not answering.

It's the first time Mark has seen Jongin hesitant.

Huh. That's interesting.

Johnny laughs, long and loud. "He used to date my little, back in college," he explains.

Jongin grimaces.

"You dated Sehun?" Mark blurts out, a little incredulous.

Jongin's pretty face pulls down into a frown. "What's wrong with that?"

Mark kind of wants to smooth out the wrinkle between his eyebrows, but he also kind of wants to laugh. He tries to suppress it, but fails, maybe, judging by the unimpressed stare Jongin is sending him. Angelic Jongin, dating disaster bi Sehun? The world is full of wonders indeed.

"Nothing," Mark answers, hiding his smile behind his glass of water. "Just. Sehun can be a little--" disastrous, messy, banging on their door at 3am in the morning blackout drunk messy, "--bit of a hurricane."

"He sure was," Jongin agrees, watching Mark carefully.

"We used to hang out a lot when he was still in town, he crashed a _lot_ in here. I think our couch still has his drool stain on it."

"Is that why you're never around, hyung?" Donghyuck asks, "because Sehun came over here a lot?"

Jongin shakes his head. "Nothing like that," he answers, pushing his food around his plate. "I got placed outside of Seoul until earlier this year. I only moved back to Seoul because my mom wants me around more." 

"He and Sehun broke up on weirdly good terms, " Johnny comments.

Mark thinks he's seeing red on Jongin's cheeks. But that may be the lights playing tricks on him.

"I don't think Sehun-hyung knows how to be mean, even if he's chaos personified most of the time," Mark adds.

"You seem to know Sehun well, Mark." Jongin observes.

Mark blinks. "Oh, yeah, he came over _a lot_ a lot."

Donghyuck snorts. "Yeah and it didn't help that you had a crush the size of the sun on him."

Mark gawks at Donghyuck, turning red to the roots of his hair. Oh Donghyuck is _in_ for a surprise. He lets out a noise that sounds like a cross between a whale dying and a mosquito flying.

Johnny guffaws. When Mark looks at him, Jongin is hiding his amused smile behind his hand.

"Why would you say that," Mark hisses. " _Why_ would you _say_ that _._ "

"It's fine Mark," Jongin adds, pointedly smirking at him. Mark would be more offended if he didn't look so goddamn _attractive_. "I mean. I guess I understand the charm?"

Mark sort of wants to crawl into a hole. And not come back for a preferably long time.

Mark kicks Donghyuck from under the table. Donghyuck promptly ignores him. So Mark kicks him again.

"Mark Lee," Donghyuck hisses in warning.

"Lee Donghyuck," Mark hisses back under his breath.

"Children," Johnny clears his throat.

Mark sighs, rolls his eyes and shoves Donghyuck, who snickers.

"You guys seem to have known each other for a long time," Jongin cuts in. Mark appreciates the effort at distraction. But Mark is intent on Making Donghyuck's life hell. Catastrophe is imminent.

Donghyuck beams at Jongin. Mark refrains from pinching Donghyuck's hand. "Not really. We only met in college."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Mark answers, still not-so-discreetly glaring at Donghyuck. "Donghyuck took one look at me and decided to follow me around. Haven't been able to get rid of him. If you see any shelter accepting strays..."

"Mark Lee." Now it's Donghyuck's turn to hiss at Mark, and this time he's the one who kicks Mark underneath the table.

"Aren't you nineteen."

"Aren't you twenty," Donghyuck challenges back.

Mark rears back, ready to fight, but Johnny puts a hand on his elbow.

"If you don't quit it won't matter how old you are, none of you are getting desert," Johnny cuts in.

Jongin laughs, and the angelic sound of it makes up for most of Mark's mortification.

-

"I hate you," Mark pouts.

"Stop pouting, you're twenty, it stopped being cute twenty years ago," Donghyuck says, pulling on his yellow adidas. They’re the ugliest thing Mark has ever seen.

"I can't believe you just told Jongin I had a crush on his ex!" Mark exclaims.

"It's no big deal, Mark. You were what, seventeen? We all make mistakes." Donghyuck pats his shoulder pityingly.

“And now you’re leaving me for like three days!”

Donghyuck does smile apologetically at that, stretching up on his tiptoes to ruffle Mark’s hair. Mark bats his hand away.

“Sorry. Duty calls and all that.”

Mark huffs, crossing his arms. "I hate you and your cult of posturing alpha-males."

Donghyuck laughs. "They are not posturing alphas. I told you they just have a stick up their asses. Every single one of them."

"Same thing." Mark waves his hand around as if that emphasizes his point _somehow._

Donghyuck rolls his eyes but his smile is playful. "I’ll see you in two days.” He opens his arms for Mark. Mark steps inside the circle gratefully, quickly, gathering his best friend close, and sighs against his ear. “Okay."

-

Truth be told, Mark doesn't really need to work in (.)dot. One word from him and Baekhyun will probably have a trust fund set up for him. Buy Johnny and him a nicer apartment in Gangnam (or worse, move them into the tower), and pay for his tuition. But Baekhyun isn't his benefactor, or sponsor. He’s his mentor and taking advantage of your mentor like that is so out of Mark’s moral compass that he hadn’t even bothered asking Baekhyun for any money.

Not that Baekhyun hadn't tried, the first few months.

"Kid, you could be living in the height of luxury, move into the tower," Baekhyun had said, frowning. He tucked his shades into the collar of his ridiculously expensive suit, looking out of place in the middle of Mark's living room. There was a dirty shirt slung over the back of the worn-out couch, and Mark's dinner was still sitting on the dining table, cooling.

"No." Mark had sighed, sat on the couch and patted the spot next to him. It's not so bad. Yeah they only had one bathroom, and their chairs were mismatched, their TV was about ten years old, but at least Mark got his own room, with big enough space for himself and a big enough bed for Donghyuck or Jaemin to stay over.

Baekhyun had refused to sit. Crossing his arms and pacing, a pout on his face. "Not to be me, but this place is kind of a dump."

Mark had shaken his head, had said in a small voice with a firmness that surprised him, hands fidgeting his shirt. "This is my home."

Baekhyun had looked alarmed and dropped the subject entirely. He'd stopped offering to pay for Mark's tuition after, too.

So technically speaking, he doesn't have to work in .(dot) but a job as a barista pays well and helps Johnny with rent. It helps that he likes the cafe. The stark, minimalistic aesthetic of it. All concrete floors and white, wooden chairs. The nice boss; a mild-mannered lady called Park Yoora, also owns several music shops. The cafe itself is just around the corner from Hanyang, and Yoora-sajangnim employs a lot of college students.

"Hyung, you're daydreaming again," Jaemin pipes up from beside him, where he's putting pastries into the display case, arranging it neatly, grinning to himself when he's satisfied with it.

"Am not," answers Mark. Just to prove himself, he flips the page of the biochem textbook he has open on the polished wooden countertop, makes a point to stare at it.

Jaemin slides the empty tray into the sink. And instead of washing it, goes over to plaster himself onto Mark's back, hands snaking around Mark's waist, hooks his chin over a shoulder to peek into his textbook. Mark supposes he should scold him, being the senior of the two, for slacking. But it’s 2pm on a Tuesday, the cafe is pretty much deserted.

"Ew, science," Jaemin comments, nose scrunching up in distaste.

Mark laughs. "Okay, business major."

"I'm studying econs," Jaemin counters, "it's different."

"Aren't you basically a capitalism enforcer?" Mark muses.

"Isn't that you?" Jaemin bats his eyelashes at him. "You're going to join the work force and participate in the system."

Mark refrains from rolling his eyes. "Oh don't tell me just because you're an academic that's why you're exempted from being included as a part of the work force. Besides it's literally not the working class' fault that--"

He's so caught up in his argument with Jaemin that he fails to notice the bell chiming above the door. Jaemin is no help, of course. Grinning and rebuffing Mark's arguments with surefire shots. There could be a line forming over the counter and Jaemin would ignore them in favor of riling Mark up.

It isn't until there's a pointed cough that Mark straightens up, shrugging Jaemin off, who pokes his tongue out at him. Mark immediately fusses around the cashier and grabs a cup.

"Welcome to dot, what can I get... you..." He asks, words dying out as he looks up.

Brown eyes greet him first thing. Hidden behind a roundish square frame of glasses.

"Mark?"

"Jongin-hyung," Mark squeaks. Hates himself for it. He clears his throat. "Hyung."

Jongin smiles at him. That same pretty smile that makes Mark’s knees weak. The glasses are _not_ helping.

"You work here?"

"Yeah. Um."

Jongin looks behind him. "Your friend?"

Mark blinks. "Uh. Yeah. He's--" Mark twists his body at Jaemin, who's washing the dishes. "Jaemin." Mark calls.

Jaemin turns his head, and gives the both of them a dazzling smile once he spots Jongin, the one where his eyes crinkle into crescents. The one he uses to trick professors into giving him extra credit.

"Hyung, this is Jaemin," Mark gestures with his sharpie. Jaemin wipes his hands on his apron and steps towards them, bowing slightly. "He comes over a lot, too, so uh," Mark stutters.

Jaemin raises an eyebrow at him. Mark wishes the ground could open up and swallow him right that moment.

He fakes a cough instead. "Jaemin, this is Jongin-hyung, he's staying over at ours for a few days. His apartment got totaled by the Green Goblin."

Jongin bows at Jaemin, too, a soft “nice to meet you,” falling from his lips.

"Sorry to hear about your apartment, Jongin-ssi."

Jongin leans forward on his elbows on top of the counter. “Please, call me hyung,” he says. "And yeah, there was a fight between Spider-Man and Green Goblin on the roof," he explains.

Mark cringes the moment Jaemin's smile thins out. "Spider-Man, huh?" He drawls. "That guy sure is borderline a nuisance these days."

Jongin’s eyes widen in surprise, before they pull down into a frown. He straightens up, seems to get taller, expanding into his broad shoulders. "I wouldn't say that,” Jongin says, defensive. “He’s saved the city multiple times before."

As hot as it is listening to Jongin defend his alter ego’s honor (and it is _very_ hot), there’s no getting Jaemin out of his anti-Spider-Man stance. As Mark's best friend, he's pretty negative about Spider-Man. One of the reasons why he hasn’t told him yet. This could drag on for an hour, given Jaemin’s propensity to debates (social majors, man, Mark sighs) and his absolute distaste of the friendly neighborhood hero. Mark recognizes the slight quirk of Jaemin’s eyebrow. The upward tick of his mouth. The all too familiar signs that Jaemin is going to argue a person to _death_. Mark has a split second to save Jaemin’s entire image in Jongin’s eyes (and himself some headache).

"Hyung," Mark cuts in, before Jaemin says any more incriminating thing about Spider-Man and Jongin ends up storming out of the café, "you don't have work today?"

He gestures towards Jongin’s whole attire. The checkered sweater looks soft. Anyone else wouldn’t have pulled him off, but Jongin’s frame fills it in well, and the straight jeans compliments Jongin's legs immensely. There's a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. He looks really good. Cuddly and warm in the chilly October air.

The distraction works. Jongin blinks at him. An action made all too adorable with the goddamn glasses, and looks down at himself, as if only realizing his clothes.

"Oh, yeah, I had to do a little bit of paperwork for the insurance, so I took the afternoon off."

Mark not-so-subtly tries nudging Jaemin back into work with his foot. Jaemin won’t have it, though. Not budging. Arms crossed and that same overly polite smile still gracing his lips.

Mark elbows Jaemin on the ribs, before fixing Jongin with the best smile he could muster. "I see, everything going alright?"

"As alright as it goes with these things,” Jongin explains, licking his lips. His eyes shift from Mark to Jaemin to Mark again.

Jaemin finally relents when Mark steps on his foot, wincing slightly. He gets back to work with a glare sent Mark’s way, turns his back on them and going back to the sink.

“Is your friend okay?” Jongin asks.

"Yep.” Mark tightens the grip on his sharpie. “He just doesn’t like Spider-Man that much. Or any of the Avengers, in fact. He thinks they’re a menace to society.” 

"Oh," Jongin hums, his mouth pursed in thought. God _damn_ that’s too adorable. “I like Spider-Man just fine, though.”

Mark's stomach jumps.

“Is that so?”

“I mean, he seems nice?”

“Is that _so_?” Mark drones, more out of lack of anything to say.

But Jongin blushes, very slightly, averts his gaze from Mark’s. Mark’s eyes widen, head tilting in curiosity.

Huh.

Jongin ends up ordering a caramel latte and a chocolate muffin to go. Mark doesn't expect Jongin to slide the takeout bag into his hand. But he does, and then his arm is reaching over to pat Mark’s head.

"Good luck on your shift." Jongin winks.

Mark doesn't know how he stutters out the thank you. He's sure his brain got melted with how hot his face is.

“So that’s the hot guy who’s got your panties all twisted,” Jaemin comments, both of them staring at Jongin's retreating back through the transparent glass doors.

"Not a single word." Mark grits out.

“I mean, a superhero sympathizer, not ideal, but he was hot.”

Mark groans into his hands. "Not. A single. Word."

“Kind of out of your league, but I mean…”

Mark looks pleadingly at Jaemin. “Nana, _please_.”

Jaemin laughs. Mark receives yet another pitying pat from another best friend. “There, there, if it’s any consolation to you, I think he likes you too?”

-

Baekhyun _did_ say not to patrol, but technically, he's not patrolling. See? He's just. Vibing. On top of a seven-story building in Apgeujong. Watching from a very (very!) safe distance at the Avengers battling it out with some kind of shapeless, gooey monster.

"Nova, on your left," Mark mutters into his costume. Donghyuck in all of his Nova glory is replacing Mark on the roster. He knows how much Donghyuck hates working with the boomers (Donghyuck’s words not his). So here he was, in the middle of his unsolicited break, nicely giving out the younger boy pointers.

“Mark, get the _fuck_ out of here. I don’t need your help!” Donghyuck yells across the comms.A private channel, because Baekhyun.

Donghyuck does a manouvre middair, trying to avoid the monster's swinging tentacle-arm, and collides face first onto a building instead. He yelps. Falling a couple of meters down before righting himself. Mark tuts at him.

"Clearly," he deadpans.

Mark listens to Donghyuck spluttering around before a whiny, deep, voice cuts in through their line.

"Mark Lee, is that you I spy hanging out beside the park?"

Mark pauses. Considers his options. Lie and get caught. Don't lie and get caught. "No?" He settles.

Jongdae--wait sorry, _Hawkeye_ snorts through the comms. "Don't let the bossman see you."

Mark eyes Iron Man zinging up the monster's sides carefully. "Um. Don't let him see me?"

He can hear Hawkeye's grin through the line. "Then don't let him catch you."

"Aye-aye sir!" Mark doesn't need to be told twice, he scrambles up, and aims his webslinger to the department store next to the park. He jumps as soon as it sticks, swings from building to building. Headed home when something catches his eye. A shadow of a movement. Two men arguing.

The cold feeling of _something is not right_ sets in Mark's bones and he itches. Mark frowns. A change of course, then.

Spidey sense tingling, Mark cuts off his swing and does a somersault in the air, landing quietly on the corner of the street. He stalks his way to the alley, making sure to keep to the shadows. Until he's just on the mouth of the alleyway. He crouches behind a dumpster--which is, gross, is that a bucket of vomit?--silently activating the zoom feature inside the mask Baekhyun made for him. Thank God for overly protective father figures and zoom-in features and night lenses.

Mark peeks his head out from behind the dumpster, tries very hard not to be seen. There are two men, one short and stout, the other thin and slender. The stout man has cropped hair and was built like a brick. Clad in cargo shorts and a black t-shirt. The other man doesn't seem any taller than Mark was, with a suit that seemed too pristine for the dirty alley they were having an argument in. The slender man had bright, brown-reddish hair, slicked back neatly, and was wearing smart glasses that made him look downright scary.

"You said five million won, Huang, not eight million!" The stout (now and forever nicknamed Stouty by Mark), growled, an index finger jabbing at Huang's chest.

Huang seemed unphased, hands folded behind his back, face impassive. "We have informed you beforehand that prices may increase."

"Not by three fucking million! For some secondhand SM blasters! Are you out of your goddamn mind!" Stouty shouts, no doubt spraying spit straight on Huang's face (which is, gross).

Huang doesn't smile, doesn't even flinch. "The price is eight million won, take it or leave it."

"Now listen here," Stouty growls again, "you tell that boss of yours to lower the fucken price or we tell the entire country your business is no good."

"Oh?" Huang smiles coldly. It's the first time he's shown emotion throughout the exchange. Mark shivers at the emptiness of it, this man was _not_ to be messed with. "And why should the country trust a scum like you over my boss?"

At the insult, Stouty roars, pulling his fist back, no doubt going for a punch. It happens in the flash of a second. One moment Stout's fist is flying to meet Huang's jaw, the next moment he's lying down on a puddle of his own blood, a gun smoking from Huang's right hand.

Mark's blood pounds in his ears. He readies his webslingers.

Suddenly the door behind Huang opens, and another figure steps out. Another man, slender and thin, wearing a black suit, too, with a grey coat over it. The difference is this man was wearing a mask that covered his entire head. The mask was solid, more of a helmet than anything. Seem to be made out of a smooth carbon polymer. It gave nothing away, only defined by the eyes and cheekbones. He walks to the dead body, crouches down and pokes the back of Stouty's head with a gloved finger.

The masked man sighs. "Injunnie, you killed him?" He asks, modulated voice tinny through the helmet, looking up at Huang.

"Sorry, boss," Huang says, but he doesn't seem sorry at all. Holstering his gun inside his coat with grace.

"Did he come at you?"

"Tried to punch me."

"Did you explain nicely?"

"As nicely as I could."

The masked man sighs again. "Injunnie, this is the third client you've killed, how am I supposed to make money now?" He says, sounding too close to a whine. But mob bosses didn't whine, did they?

"Sorry, boss."

"You keep saying that," the masked man grumbles.

Huang doesn't answer.

The masked man straightens up. "Anyways, our little squad is almost done fighting. Is the transport done?"

"All done boss. All packaged and shipped off."

"Great," the masked man says, brushing invisible dust off of his suit. He pauses, tilting his head. "Injunnie, are you carying that SM taser I gave you?"

"No, boss."

"Injunnie," the masked man says, "you didn't notice you had a guest." Then he's aiming at the dumpster where Mark was hiding behind, fast as a whiplash, firing rounds of bullets into it.

The collision shakes the dumpster, the sound of bullets hitting metal loud in the tiny alleyway. Mark yells, immediately rolling away from the source of the bullet. He regains his footing swiftly, looks up and meets the barrel of a gun, Huang's impassive face on the other end of it.

"Spider-Man," Huang intones. "Goodbye."

+++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... what's going on? Who's the masked man? Who's Huang? Jongdae is Hawkeye? Stay tuned! Follow me on twt for more superm content~ @royalbaeks (with a capital i instead of an L). Thank you for reading! Please tell me what you think about this in the comments :D

**Author's Note:**

> So how did you like that? Please let me know on the comments below! Chapters will be added when they're done. I'm aiming for every two weeks though. Stay tuned!
> 
> Follow my twitter (royalbaeks) for spoilers and more kaimark content!


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